


From the Corner of His Eye

by AlElizabeth



Series: Sammy's Eyes [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Hurt No Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 01:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7487238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlElizabeth/pseuds/AlElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester, famous for his temper and ability to hold a grudge, is fed up with what he believes is Sam's irresponsibility and refuses to purchase needed items for his youngest. At first its just annoying but then it becomes a life and death struggle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Corner of His Eye

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fic contains darker themes than the first two of the series, though nothing specific.

Dean looked up as the door to the hospital room opened and John stepped inside.

"We need to talk," the twenty-year old said and stood up from the chair he'd been occupying. His brother had been asleep for hours and Dean wasn't about to let John barge into and wake him.

"Fine," the elder Winchester grumbled and stepped out.

Dean followed his father into the hallway, arms crossed over his chest.

"What the hell was that earlier?" the young man growled, "You saying you won't buy anything for Sammy again?"

"What was that? That was me trying to knock some sense into that boy! That stunt he pulled with the glasses- that was a rookie mistake! I can't let him get away with something like that, because you know what, if it happens again it could not only cot Sam his own life but the lives of innocent people!" John snarled, his outburst earning him a few leery glances from passing nurses.

"He's sixteen, Dad! Why can't you cut him some slack?" Dean asked, trying, and failing to contain his anger.

"Did I cut you any slack?" John retorted, stepping closer to his eldest son.

"No, but-"

"Why should I treat Sam like a baby then? If I start going easy on him, he'll get sloppy and when a hunter gets sloppy, people die!" John snapped.

Dean sighed and wiped a hand down his face.

"You know it isn't Sam's fault his glasses were broken. Why are you doing this?"

The twenty-year old could see a vein throbbing in his father's forehead and almost wished he hadn't spoken.

"The glasses never should have been broken in the first place. Sam is a hunter; he should have defended himself," John hissed.

Dean bit his tongue to keep from reminding his father that if Sam had defended himself from those bullies- using techniques taught by John Winchester, ex-Marine- he likely would have been expelled or had those assholes' parents press charges against him.

"Sam didn't fight back," Dean said instead, "He practically turned the other cheek- something some people would call admirable- and you want to punish him for that?"

John sneered and Dean realized the futility of trying to convince him that pacifism was okay in some situations.

"Look," the younger Winchester continued, trying a more diplomatic approach, "I agree that Sam should have told you about his glasses but don't you think he's learned his lesson? I mean, Scarlet fever, that's not gonna be a walk in the park."

"No," John replied sternly, "I'm tired of watching him fuck up. He has to learn that if he makes a mistake in the real world there are consequences."

Dean stared in disbelief at his father. He thought back on John's promise not to buy Sam anything and wondered what that entailed. Not that he was going to ask his father.

Without another word, Dean turned away from John and went back into Sam's room, forcing himself not to slam the door as he did so.

At first the twenty-year old thought his brother was sleeping but when he settled down into the visitor's chair, Sam's eyes opened and he pushed himself against the pillows, trying to sit up.

"Did you talk to D-Dad?" Sam asked in a raspy voice that made him sound as though he'd been a pack-a-day smoker since the age of six.

"Yeah, I talked to him," Dean answered, hedging.

"Is he still pissed at me?" Sam asked, eyes wide and round in his feverish face.

"Don't worry about it, Sammy," Dean told his brother, not wanting to tell him that John wasn't ready to budge an inch from his decision.

"You just focus on getting better."

Without another word, Sam closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

SPN

Sam and Dean looked up when the motel door opened and John stepped inside, holding a brown paper bag of take-out and a cardboard drink tray.

After two days in the hospital, the rash and the fever had gone down enough for Sam to be discharged.

The Winchesters had left town as soon as they exited the hospital parking lot, putting their town in their rearview mirror.

John sat the fast-food bag down on the desk in a corner of the room and passed the drinks to Dean. It was only then that the brothers noticed there were only two beverages.

Just as Sam reached for the second cup, John grabbed the cup and sucked up a mouthful of soda through the straw.

Sam stared at his father for a moment before turning to Dean, who was already digging into the bag for a burger.

"Hey Dad, what gives?" the elder brother asked and pulled two paper-wrapped hamburgers from the bag.

"Sam's old enough I don't need to be buying him food- especially something he doesn't like- he can go out and get his own dinner," John replied without missing a beat. Reaching over, he took a burger from Dean and started to unwrap it.

Now both boys were staring at John.

"C'mon Dad, you can't do that-" Dean began before John interrupted.

"I told you I wasn't going to give Sam a free pass anymore. He needs to learn something about responsibility."

"But-" Dean tried again but John shut down, his gaze focused on his food and the young man knew it would be useless to try and talk to him.

"Let's go, Sammy," Dean sat his own burger aside and stood up, one hand on his brother's arm.

John said nothing; he continued eating as though nothing was wrong.

Dean ushered his brother out of the motel room, slamming the door after them.

"Don't worry about it, Sammy," Dean muttered as he steered his sibling through the parking lot to the strip mall across the street where a Pita Pit stood.

"Dad will get over this, just give him time. You know how he can be," the elder brother reassured as they jogged across the road and entered the strip mall.

Sam didn't answer his brother. He didn't have anything to say. Yes there was a good chance that his father was just in a mood and he'd get over it in a few das. Or this would be one of those grudges John Winchester held for a long, long time.

A small, electronic bell sounded as Sam pushed open the door to the Pita Pit. Dean followed his brother into the restaurant, wrinkling his nose at the lack of deep fryers and milkshake machines in the place.

Sam gazed up at the menu hanging above the counter, squinting at the tiny lettering.

Dean stood by the doors as he waited for his brother to get his pita, clearly impatient to get back to his hamburger before John decided to eat it.

The elder Winchester sighed when his sibling made a 'come here' gesture.

"What?" Dean asked, exasperated.

"I, um, I can't read the menu, Dean," Sam told his brother quietly, his face pink-tinged with embarrassment.

The twenty-year old looked up at the overhead menu and then back to his brother, "You're kidding me, right?"

Sam shook his head, sheepish.

"Are you ready to order?" a middle-aged woman in black dress pants, a green polo uniform shirt and black baseball cap asked the brothers.

Dean held up a finger, "Give us a minute."

He ran a hand down his face as he turned his attention to his sibling, "Okay, let me know when I get to something you like."

W

Ten minutes later, Dean shoved open the door to the motel room, Sam close on his heels, stomach rumbling.

John was sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, leafing through the pages of his journal.

"At least you left something for me," Dean commented and grabbed his uneaten hamburger from where he had left it.

Sam sat down on the end of one of the beds and began unwrapping his pita.

Dean bit into his now-cold hamburger and chewed, eyeing his father.

"Okay, lesson learned, Dad. Sam shouldn't have let his glasses get smashed," the older son said through a mouthful of food.

John didn't react. He simply continued to look through his journal.

"Dad, c'mon, this is stupid," Dean continued, "Where is Sam supposed to get the money to pay for his food?"

"That's not my problem," John replied.

"Don't worry about it, Dean," Sam muttered, "It's okay."

"No, Sam," Dean replied, "It's not okay. Dad's being immature and petty."

John looked up at his eldest son.

"This is stupid," Dean directed at his father, "You know it is. It isn't going to teach Sam to be responsible and you know it, Dad. You're just pissed that you had to spend your money on glasses for Sam instead of ammo for your guns."

The eldest Winchester stood, glaring daggers at his oldest son.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Dean," John replied, "So I suggest you be quiet."

"Fuck you," the twenty-year old growled, shocking both his brother and his father.

Sam stared at his two family members, certain this argument was about to come to blows. Instead, John grabbed his journal off the desk and headed towards the door. Throwing open the door, John stormed out of the room, leaving both sons to stare after him.

"Did he… just leave us?" Sam asked.

"Just to get plastered," Dean replied with confidence, "He'll be back tonight."

Dean turned to his brother, "Eat your dinner."

SPN

Dean was right about their father and in the wee hours of the morning the sleeping brothers were woken up by the sound of the motel room door slamming open and heavy footfalls announcing John's return.

Sam, wide-awake, stared at his older brother lying right beside him. The twenty-year old's eyes were open as well and he remained as still as a log of wood as John stumbled around the room before falling into the empty bed beside them.

Moments later, John's chainsaw snores sounded from the bed closest to the door, telling his sons that he was in a deep slumber and not about to wake up for anything.

Dean sat up and twisted at the waist to peer at his father, Sam watching his brother without moving himself. The older brother got up out of bed and walked across the room to the door, closing it and locking it- John having left it wide open when he staggered inside- pausing for a moment to take a deep breath.

As Dean returned to the bed where his brother was, Sam sat up and peered out at him.

"Dean," Sam called in a loud whisper, knowing from experience that an atomic bomb going off next door wasn't going to wake up John.

"Yeah Sammy?" his brother asked as he turned to face him.

"How long do you think Dad's gonna be like this?"

For a long moment the twenty-year old said nothing and Sam lowered his head.

"He'll come around," Dean told him, "You'll see. Tomorrow morning he'll have forgotten all about it."

Sam nodded in the darkness. Dean settled himself to lie down and let out a loud breath.

"Go to sleep, Sammy," he muttered and after a moment the sixteen-year old laid down as well, closing his eyes but not sleeping.

SPN

John Winchester, infamous for his ability to hold grudges, did not forget about his youngest son's irresponsibility and continued to refuse to buy anything for Sam.

Whenever Dean attempted to call him out on his actions, the hunter responded by claiming that maybe Sam would learn to treat his possessions with respect if he was forced to pay for them himself.

Not only did the hunter not purchase food for his youngest son, but also forced the sixteen-year old to scrape together money to purchase clothing and school items.

Sam, whose shoes had started falling apart halfway through the school year, had been forced to purchase a used pair from the Goodwill store in a town they had stopped in because he simply didn't have enough money for new ones.

Notebooks, pencils, pens and other school necessities were bought at a dollar store for a pittance, even with Dean offering to help pay for the items. Sam didn't like taking his brother's money, even though Dean insisted he have it; John just seemed to know his eldest son was helping out his youngest and clearly disapproved.

"It's my money," Dean argued when their father brought up the issue, "I can give it to whomever I want."

"How is Sam supposed to learn to be responsible for his things if he doesn't pay for them on his own?" John asked.

Sam sat on the motel bed, wishing he could sink into it and disappear. He didn't fight much with his father anymore, mostly because he knew it was useless, but watching Dean talk back to John made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Where is Sammy supposed to get money?" Dean asked, "He's in school, he can't get even a part-time job because we're always on the move, he's not old enough to even lie his way into pool halls."

John just shrugged, "That's not my problem. He's not starving, is he? He's wearing decent clothes, isn't he?"

"Because I helped him buy the things he needs!" Dean snapped, "Something you should be doing!"

"I don't think you should be helping him pay for things, Dean," John argued, "He won't learn if you continue to enable him."

The twenty-year old gaped at his father, "Enable him? Its not like Sammy's an alcoholic or drug-addict! He needs food and clothes and school supplies!"

"If he's so unhappy, why doesn't he tell me that himself?" the Winchester patriarch asked and turned his dark eyes on his youngest son.

Sam lowered his gaze, not wanting to get into an argument.

"Here's an idea," John said sarcastically, "Why doesn't Sam quit school and get a job if he's so strapped for cash?"

Dean said nothing in Sam's defense.

"How much longer are you going to make us live like this?" the twenty-year old asked, "It's already been four months."

"Until Sam learns to take responsibility for his things," John told his sons the same line he'd been clinging two for the past ninety days.

Dean, fed up with his near-daily arguments with his father, raised his hands in exasperation. The only thing keeping him from taking his younger brother and leaving John was the love he had for his father, despite the man's faults.

Now that the fight had seemed to have ended, Sam peered out the motel window at the snow-covered world outside.

Standing, the sixteen-year old slipped his hand-me-down shoes on and grabbed his jacket.

"Sammy," Dean said, "Let me give you a ride."

The teen shook his head, "It's okay, Dean. I kind of want to go out on my own for a little bit."

The older brother frowned but Sam ignored it. He appreciated Dean helping him out but sometimes he just needed to do things on his own, his independent spirit feeling smothered by his brother's insistence on being with him all the time since John's stupid rule had come into affect.

"Okay," Dean relented, "Just be back before dark."

Sam nodded and opened the door of the motel room, gasping at the chill air that blew into his face.

Pulling the door closed, the teen shoved his hands into his pockets and walked with his head down, down the snow-slick sidewalk, feeling better now that he was out of the motel room.

Although the streets weren't bustling, there were enough people out braving the weather for Sam to have to weave around on the sidewalk to avoid getting trampled.

Paying no heed to where he walked, the teens thoughts turned to that fateful day when a group of bullies had broken his glasses, putting everything that had happened afterwards into motion. Sam wondered, as he often did whenever his father and brother argued, if he could have done anything different.

Of course he could have, Sam knew, but none of the options were really all that appealing.

He could have used the skills he'd learned from John to hunt monsters against the bullies- which would have resulted him getting into trouble with the school or worse, the police.

He could have told his father right away that his glasses had been broken which may or may not have changed John's ideas about his irresponsibility with his possessions.

Sam felt sick to his stomach just thinking about all the 'what ifs' and stopped where he was. Checking his watch, the sixteen-year old saw that ninety minutes had passed since he'd left the motel room. Looking up, he saw that the sky was quickly darkening and recalled his brother's reminder to be back before nightfall- not for any reason in particular- there were no monsters that needed killing in this town, but Dean was always mother-henning Sam, especially now that the younger brother's glasses were gone.

Turning around, the teen started back down the sidewalk, shivering slightly in the cold air.

SPN

John Winchester looked up from his journal at the glowing red numbers on the motel room's alarm clock, sitting between the two beds on a scratched and scuffed nightstand.

"I'll be back soon, Dean," the father told his eldest son who was sitting on the bed furthest from the door, watching television.

The twenty-year old glanced at the time and asked his father to give Sam a lift back home if he saw the teen walking.

John said nothing in response to his son's request. He pulled on his boots, shrugged his coat over his shoulders and grabbed the Impala's car keys before closing the door a little too hard on the way out.

SPN

Sam's stomach growled hungrily and the teen sighed. Normally he'd look forward to returning to the motel room he shared with his brother and father to find a burger or pizza or Chinese takeout waiting for him. But since John's stupid decision that Sam had to pay for his own food, clothes, school supplies and other necessities, the teen had been forced to fend for himself.

Since there would be nothing for him at home, the teen shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans and dug out a handful of change. Quickly counting the coins, Sam decided he had just enough for a burger.

Glancing up at the shops lining the snow-covered street, the teen smiled when he spied a Burger King and headed in that direction.

W

A blast of hot air smelling of grease and salt hit Sam as he opened the door to the fast-food restaurant. As a general rule, Sam preferred more healthy options than his brother or father but he was hungry so he would take what he could get.

Peering up at the menu board above the counter, the teen sighed slightly at the blurred words and lined up behind a man wearing an olive green parka, holding the hands of a little boy and a little girl, also wearing parkas- red for the boy and pink for the girl- to wait for his turn to order.

SPN

John intended to get dinner for himself and Dean. He really did. But after the argument with his eldest, John was in a bit of a mood and needed a pick-me-up.

Dean wouldn't melt if his dinner were a little late; John thought and instead of heading to a fast-food joint, drove instead to a convenience store.

Pulling into the parking lot, slush and ice grinding against the Impala's tires, John stopped the car and cut the engine.

The hunter pushed open the driver's side door and stepped outside, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets to keep them warm on the short walk to the store.

A bell jingled merrily as John stepped inside and headed towards the back of the store where the beverages sat behind glass doors.

After quick deliberation, the hunter picked up a 12-pack of beer and a bottle of Jack Daniels.

The store was empty of customers but for the hunter. John was able to pay in a timely fashion and then once again braved the elements to get to the car.

Once inside the vehicle, John turned on the heater and the radio. Sitting in his seat, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, John made a decision. Reaching into the backseat, he pulled a bottle of whiskey from the brown paper bag the kid behind the counter had packed it in, and twisted off the cap. Considering himself by no means a lightweight when it came to alcohol consumption, John told himself that he would only have a couple of nips of the whiskey before going to get dinner.

SPN

Sam didn't have to wait long before it was his turn to order. Stepping up to the counter, he gave a shy smile to the girl working the register.

"Welcome to Burger King," she said the customary words of greeting, "What can I get for you today?"

"Just a hamburger," Sam replied and watched as she typed his order into the cash register.

"Would you like fries or a drink with that?" she asked.

Sam shook his head and gave her the coins when she held her hand out for his money.

"It'll be-" the girl began as she set out a tray for his food but stopped, her gaze on something behind Sam.

Recognizing the expression of shock on the cashier's face, the teen turned to peer at what she was looking at and caught sight of a large, black car from the corner of his eyes right before it smashed through the plate glass window of the restaurant and careened straight for him.

SPN

John set the empty bottle of Jack Daniels down in the paper bag and decided that he'd better get going. It was starting to get dark and he knew that if he wasn't back soon with food, Dean would worry about him.

Not that John needed his twenty-year old son worrying about him. He was an adult- a hunter- and could take care of himself. But Dean had always had that nurturing streak in him, ever since he was little; John mostly saw it come out when his eldest was obsessing over the safety of his youngest.

Putting the car into drive, John rolled slowly out of the parking lot, pausing to peer through squinted eyes at the cars zipping past him on the road.

After a moment, the hunter pulled out of the parking lot, cutting off a yellow Toyota, which honked angrily at his rude driving.

SPN

Screams of terror and pain filled the restaurant as the black car drove right over the booths sitting in front of the broken window- and the customers sitting in them- before continuing its relentless roll forward.

Sam seemed frozen to the spot in the seconds it took for him to see the vehicle barreling through the dining area of the Burger King, knocking over patrons and crushing them beneath its black tires still glistening from the snow outside.

Before the teen could move or even fully register what was happening, the black car was heading towards the counter.

Cries and shouting filled Sam's ears, mixing with the growl of the car's engine and the men, women and children behind the teen began to press forward, confusion and fear forcing them towards the counter as though they all were of one mind to vault over it and into the safety of the kitchen.

Sam, standing at the front of the counter, fell victim to the horrified crowd and was trapped between it and the crush of bodies. Then, suddenly the pressure increased as the teen became trapped between the counter and the screaming mob of people shoved forward by the large black car.

The teen, twisted at the waist as he had tried to see what had frightened the cashier so, felt all the air squeezed from his lungs, his ribs and hips thrumming with pain. The hand of another victim reached out and punched Sam in the side of the head, causing him to black out for a moment.

Gasping, with tears of agony running down his face, Sam peered blearily up at the huge black car which even now was growling like a monster, struggling to move forward over the wall of injured and dying, as though it was a sentient being and its purpose was the crush him beneath its immense weight.

Thankfully though, the pain and lack of oxygen had taken enough of a toll on the teen's body and he quickly lost consciousness, escaping the nightmare unfolding before him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos or a comment and I will update the next installment of this 'verse as soon as possible!  
> I know, I know, a cliffhanger… I can't help it! I just like leaving you all in suspense. Plus, I thought that was a good spot to stop before this one-shot got too long and would have to be turned into a multi-chapter fic.


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